If I could turn back time – an off-the-cuff joint.

“If I could turn back time” isn’t a wish to go back in time. To me, the latter is a jump of some significance – to the third grade or to 1653. The former is usually event-specific – I want a do-over for that one thing. For instance, I would have held onto my hockey cards from 1982. My estranged daughter texted me yesterday. I … Continue reading If I could turn back time – an off-the-cuff joint.

Memories are the darndest thing.

I’m folding a couple of the T-shirts that haven’t yet been demoted to dryer status when all of a sudden, I’m thinking about my son’s father’s reaction when I told him I was pregnant. We limped along for another two and a half years, but he never quite forgave me. [i] That isn’t what I’m thinking about, however. I’m thinking about the day he came … Continue reading Memories are the darndest thing.

I think well when I putter.

I’m good at avoidance. I should be – I’ve had a lifetime of practice. What’s an eating disorder if not an attempt to escape from an unpalatable reality? Are there palatable realities? I’m starting to doubt it. My reality has been unpleasant of late. Unpleasant and challenging. It’s been a year. A year of surgeries, cancers, near-death experiences, hospital stays, and mental and emotional angst. … Continue reading I think well when I putter.